


Surprises, of the welcome sort

by paddypads



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paddypads/pseuds/paddypads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurence and Temeraire return from China, five years after they left for Australia, to find that not all is as they left it. Laurence is now a father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprises, of the welcome sort

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt number five of the Temeraire fanom exchange "Laurence coming back from Russia and finding Jane with a little girl that looks just like him. Emily may or may not get sick when she sees."

Laurence had been in in England for less than two hours upon his arrival in Dover. Jane had summoned him to her office the moment he arrived at the covert. In his turn, Laurence had sent Emily to tell her mother that he would be there as soon as he saw Temeraire settled, and if Emily returned unable to look him in the eye, and rather paler than usual, Laurence didn’t notice.

Jane’s office was as large, and as grand as befitted her station as Admiral. Laurence barely registered it. He was halfway through a polite bow when he had seen that he and Jane were not alone in the room. The third occupant was sat on the floor next to the fire. She seemed transfixed by the flames dancing in the grate. The child could not have been more than four; judging by her size. Laurence opened his mouth, the inquiry ready on his lips, when Jane pressed a glass of amber liquid into his hand.

“Perhaps you ought to sit down, Will,” she said, and all but pressed him into a chair. He was relieved that she had used his Christian name, and thus set the tone of the conversation. He had not been sure if he would be meeting with his commanding officer, or with a friend and a lover. But if the latter was the case, and it most certainly was, then Laurence could not understand why he had been summoned with such urgency.

“Is there… is there some urgent matter that requires my attention?” Laurence said, but, at the sound of his voice, the little girl by the fire turned around. He had once seen something of his aunt in the shape of Emily’s face, imagined though it had been; but there was nothing imagined about the familiarity in the shape and colour of the girl’s eyes, nor, now he considered it, the shade of her hair.  He had not got past ‘urgent’ when the realisation dawned.

“I believe you understand the matter well enough now, without my saying anything.” Jane exhaled heavily. “This is Mary. She is near five years old now. And your daughter.”

“My daughter,” Laurence repeated, something leaden and uncomfortable settling in his stomach beside the bitter indignation the knowledge brought. “Surely, you cannot mean- if this is a joke, then I assure you, it is not funny. It is damned ridiculous.”

“Oh, Will. It is not a joke, I am afraid. And do mind your language in front of Mary.”

“To the devil with my language!” Laurence shook his head. “This is nonsense. You cannot mean this. I have been gone for five years. I cannot have a child.”

“I assure you, you can. It seems that I was pregnant before you left for Australia,” Jane said, calmly, taking a sip of her drink.

“And in five years you did not once see fit to tell me that I was a father?” Laurence fought not to raise his voice again, however justified he felt it might be.

“I could not be sure that you would not take it upon yourself to return to England at once, and that would not have been at all sensible.” Jane grimaced. “I am sorry, Will, dreadfully sorry, but there it is.”

Laurence found that he could not argue against this line of reasoning. He certainly would have wanted to follow that course, and perhaps, when in Australia, he might have done so.

“Very well,” he said, a little stiffly, and then he paused. “Jane, you must understand that I cannot in good conscience have a child out of wedlock. You must allow me to express again my desire to marry you.”

“You know that I cannot accept; I have said so before.” Jane shook her head. “That I could not be your commanding officer and your wife.”

“We did not have a child then. And pray, do not tell me that this situation is the same as the one between yourself and Emily’s father.” Laurence shook his head. “No, it cannot be called the same thing at all. Emily is nearly assured of a Captaincy. Mary will have no such security.”

“There are Xenicas ready for breeding. With the proper training Mary could be put to one of their eggs. I am in a position to assure such a step is granted her. She _will_ have security.” Jane’s gaze was defiant, daring him to challenge the statement.

Abruptly certain that he had gone too far, Laurence fell silent. He took a sip of brandy, thinking.

“I apologise,” he said, eventually. “I ought not to have pressed the issue.”

“Oh, Will, I didn’t mean to upset you, but you must see that it would be impossible, don’t you?” Jane shook her head. “No, pay no mind to that now; Mary has heard a great many stories about you, you know. She would very much like to meet you. And then you ought to introduce her to Temeraire.”

Laurence nodded, feeling, despite himself, something akin to excitement replacing the guilt and shame in his stomach.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I would like that very much.”

 

Mary sat on Laurence’s lap, looking up at him with wide, enquiring eyes. He had not entirely expected to have to hold the child. He was also completely unsure of what to say or do, having rarely been confronted with very young children. Fortunately, this did not prove to be much of an obstacle. Mary appeared to enjoy talking a great deal.

“Mama says that one day I will get my own dragon,” she was telling Laurence, as if it were a great secret. “And I will be a captain, a good captain. Like you; she says you are very good.”

“I will be very proud,” Laurence said, “Very proud indeed, when you get your step.” And he found that he meant it. “Would you like to meet a dragon?”

“I have met lots of dragons.” Mary told him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But if it is Temeraire then I will be very pleased to meet him, sir.”

“I am sure that Temeraire will be pleased to meet you, too,” Laurence said, although he wasn’t sure at all. The dragon had always been very opposed to Laurence marrying, or having a child, and now that Laurence had done the latter, he could not be assured of Temeraire having a positive reaction.

“Then let us go.” Mary said, decisively. “Mama says I can only stay here until six o’clock, and I am sure it must nearly be then.”

Laurence, who suspected that it was in fact rather nearer early afternoon than evening, merely smiled, and, securing his grip on Mary, stood. She was a small thing, delicate, like his mother, and Laurence could carry her with ease. He remembered, vaguely, his nursemaid carrying him like this, balanced against her hip, supported with one arm. It felt more than a little bizarre, to be carrying a child through the covert, and he noted more than a few curious looks being cast in his direction as he made his way to Temeraire’s clearing.

“Will!” Laurence turned at the sound of his name, to see Granby hurrying over. “I heard that you are just lately got back, but Temeraire said you’d been sent to see Roland. I had intended to warn you, but you got off so quick I hadn’t the time to catch you.”

“Warn me?” Laurence asked. “Of what?”

“Why, of me. Everybody was worried that you wouldn’t like me, you know.” Mary said, before Granby had even a chance at a response. Not for the first time, Laurence was struck by how much she reminded him of Temeraire as a hatchling. She certainly seemed equally precocious.

“That is about the size of the matter,” Granby nodded. “But I see that I needn’t have worried.”

“No, not at all,” Laurence replied, with as much of a smile as he could manage. “I thought I might introduce her to Temeraire.”

“Then I won’t keep you,” Granby said, and, looking as if he were trying not to smile, departed. Laurence hoped dearly that he had gone to distract Iskierka. If not, Laurence feared that things were about to get a great deal worse. Or, at the very least, rather more embarrassing.

 

Laurence had been aware that the child- that Mary- was small.  He had also been aware that Temeraire was quite large. These two pieces of knowledge had not seemed to connect. In truth, Laurence often forgot that Temeraire was no longer the size he had been as a hatchling, despite the evidence before his eyes. But to see him now, beside a child half the size Emily had been when she had first been his runner, truly brought his growth home. Laurence was too busy being concerned for his daughter to experience real shock. She would not, despite his cautioning, come away from Temeraire, who was staring right at her, unmoving.

“Why, Laurence,” Temeraire said at last, sounding rather surprised, “she looks like you. She has even got your hair. Lily said that Catherine’s egg was very small and pink with no hair at all. But of course,” he added, hurriedly, “of course yours would be _much_ better. Still, you might have told me. I would not have been nearly so worried about Mrs. Pemberton had I known that you and Jane had had an egg.”

“I, ah…” Laurence coughed, “I was not aware that I had a daughter until today. This is Mary.”

“Hello.” Mary said, looking up at Temeraire. “It is very nice to meet you. I have never met a black dragon before. But then you are a Celestial. Mama says that is very special indeed.”

“Indeed, it is.” Temeraire replied, puffing himself up proudly. “Laurence had to be made a prince to be allowed to be my captain.”

“Does that mean that I am a princess?” Mary asked, tilting her head to one side, as she looked up at Temeraire.

“I do not know,” the dragon answered. “I would think that it does. That is normally how it goes, isn’t it, Laurence?”

Laurence frowned. “I’m afraid that I do not know either,” he admitted. “We may need to check. We can send an enquiry with the messengers who bring the dispatches about your egg.” Laurence hoped devoutly that both dragon and daughter would forget this suggestion.

“Must one be a prince or a princess to be a captain?” Mary asked, turning back to Laurence. “Because Mama says I am to have a Xenica when I am big enough, but if I must be a princess then I suppose it will take longer than I had thought.”

“But why on earth should you have a Xenica? Or any other kind of dragon, for that matter?” Temeraire demanded, lowering his head so that his eyes were on a level with Mary’s. “Why must I give up everyone to other dragons? Especially ones that are not even hatched yet.”

“Temeraire, Mary is not part of your crew,” Laurence began, but found himself interrupted.

“But Emily is not part of Excidium’s crew, and she will still go to him. Why can Mary not be my captain when you are too old?” Temeraire posed the question as if it were perfectly reasonable. “Do not say that it is because she is a girl. Emily is a girl. Harcourt is also. If Lily and Excidium can say that they will only have women then why can I not?”

“It is very different,” Laurence said. “Longwings will not go into harness at all with a male captain.”

“Well, I shan’t either. I shall have only you, or her,” Temeraire declared, as if this settled the matter. Laurence feared very much that it would.  As unpopular as he and Temeraire had become with the Admiralty, they were very much needed.

“But I am not a princess.” Mary pointed out, frowning. “I cannot be your captain if I am not a princess.”

“You _may_ be a princess.” Temeraire said. “We do not know. And anyway, if you are not they can make you one. I will insist on it. It does not seem to be very difficult.”

As Laurence watched the two converse, he had an awful feeling that he would never again win an argument with Temeraire if he and Mary were allied against him.

 

Six o’clock came with astonishing speed. Laurence passed the hours prior to its arrival watching Mary climb over Temeraire’s back, the fear that she might stumble or fall heavy in his stomach. He sat, resting against Temeraire’s neck, one wary eye on his daughter, the other on little Tom. Catherine had come to welcome him back shortly before, and brought the boy with her. It seemed that the two were frequent playmates, although Laurence was not quite certain why this meant he should be supervising them. Catherine had told him a great many things, most of which he had been, despite his best efforts, too distracted to fully comprehend. There had been a time when, as a Captain, he had regarded the concern he felt for the younger members of his crews as paternal. Now, as a father, he realised that it was nothing close.

Emily had come shortly after Harcourt’s departure, at about half past five. At Laurence’s invitation, she sat down.

“I didn’t know about Mary,” she said, before Laurence could ask.  “I promise, sir.”

For a few moments, Laurence floundered, searching for a response. “I- had not considered- that is to say, I did not think that you were lying to me.” It was the truth. He had hardly spared a thought for Emily. “I apologise,” he said, “this must be uncomfortable for you.”

“Not more uncomfortable than skirts and dresses, sir.” Emily smiled a little wryly. “Not _very_ surprised, either.”

Laurence felt himself flush. It had never occurred to him that Emily might _know_ of his relationship with her mother. He decided that it would be best if he didn’t think about it too much.  “Well, I- I apologise for any discomfort this might have caused you.”

“Well,” Emily grinned. “I did feel a little bit sick when mother told me.”

Despite the strong suspicion that Emily was, in fact, mocking him, Laurence couldn’t help but smile. It was a relief, to know that she would not hold this against him. His crew was, after all, impractically small already. The loss of a trusted midwingman could not have been borne. He was deprived of the chance to find the words to express this sentiment by Temeraire’s interruption.

“But why?” the dragon asked, “Why should you feel sick?”

“I believe Roland was making a joke, my dear,” Laurence said.

“Oh, I see.” Temeraire hummed, pleased by his new understanding. “Laurence, is Mary still well? I cannot feel her moving.”

Regretting that he had, for a moment, taken his eyes away from the children, Laurence looked back at them. He couldn’t help but be relieved to see that they were both perfectly well, only lying down.

“Mary is merely resting, dear,” Laurence replied. “You do not need to be quite so concerned for her health.”

“She is to be my captain,” Temeraire said, haughtily. “Her health is my business, just as Emily’s is Excidium’s.”

Laurence was considering indulging in a sigh when he caught sight of the hourglass being turned in the main courtyard. Six o’clock had come, which meant that Mary was to be returned to her home, wherever that home was.

 

Jane had told Laurence to wait with Mary until the carriage arrived to collect her. He noted that many of the other aviators and ground-crew members seemed unsurprised to see her. It seemed, then, that wherever Mary resided was not so far away that was not common sight in the covert, which surprised him, as she clearly did not live there. Laurence had expected her to grow up as Emily had, surrounded by aviators. But then, perhaps Emily had not grown up surrounded by aviators. He had never bothered to ask how aviators raised their children, an oversight that he now regretted.

“Why are we standing here, sir?” Mary asked, looking up at him.

Laurence hesitated. “Father,” he said. “You needn’t call me sir, my dear. I am your father. You should call me that.”

“Yes, father.” Mary smiled, nodded. “Why are we standing here?”

“We’re waiting for the carriage to come and take you home,” Laurence answered.

“Why?”

He blinked. It was, surely, simple enough for even a child to understand. “Because it’s time for you to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to go home.” Laurence frowned down at Mary in concern. She smiled blithely back up at him.

“Why?” she asked.

“Now, dear” said a familiar voice. “You mustn’t tease your father so. He doesn’t understand the game.”

Laurence looked up, searching for his mother. She stood a little way off, smiling. She looked happier, and healthier than he remembered, which lifted a weight from his heart.

“Mother.” He smiled, and stepped forward to embrace her. “Might I ask, why are you here?”

“I have come to collect my ward, William. But I did not know that you were returned from China.” She looked up at him, concern in her eyes.

“I arrived here only this afternoon,” Laurence replied. “But- your ward?”

“Well, I could hardly tell people that she is my granddaughter.” Lady Allendale smiled. “No, Miss Mary Laurence is my ward, a young orphaned girl taken into our family, an occupation for my old age. She is family, after all. I thought it better to keep her close, for now. Although, Admiral Roland tells me she is for the corps.”

“Yes.” Laurence nodded. “She shall captain Temeraire, once I have become too old to do so.” He smiled. “She will, I am certain, be as excellent an aviator as her mother and sister.”

“And her father.” His mother did not give him time to respond before she continued. “She and I live in London now, you know. Mrs Woolvey thinks her a sweet little thing. She takes tea with us often.”

Laurence creased his brows a little, but nodded. There would be time for guilt another day.  “I am glad that she’s not too far away.” A pause. “If I may… what game is it that I don’t understand?”

“Ah.” His mother laughed. “Mary calls it the ‘why game’. She asks me why, until I cannot answer, or she knows it wouldn’t make sense to ask it. She often wins.”

He grimaced. “That sounds like a rather trying game.”

“Oh, it can be.” Lady Allendale shrugged, gracefully. “But then I hear her speak, and she’s so much further ahead than any other child her age. Her vocabulary is fantastic, you know.”

“I did think that she spoke well,” Laurence said, with pride. “She reminds me a little of Temeraire when he was first hatched.”

Lady Allendale laughed. “I see what you mean. Now, I’m afraid I must be leaving. We shall have an early start back to London tomorrow, and Mary needs her rest.”

“Do not,” Mary mumbled, folding her arms. “I want to stay here with the dragons.”

“When you are older, you will live here,” Laurence promised, crouching down so that he would be on a level with her. “For now, you must leave. But perhaps I shall be able to go with a courier to London to visit you soon. I shall, in any case, write to you as often as I may.”

“But I cannot read yet,” Mary said, her face falling. “And I cannot write back to you.”

“Do not worry yourself, my dear.” Laurence said, “I am certain that my mother will be able to help you.”

“I promise that I shall read you as many letters as you wish, Mary, if only you will say goodbye now, and get in the carriage.” Lady Allendale smiled, but Laurence recognised the signs of her patience wearing thin.

Mary huffed for a few moments, but it seemed that she too knew the signs, for she dutifully allowed Laurence to pick her up, and hold her close for a few moments. It felt almost cruel; to have his daughter taken away so soon after he had discovered her. But he stood, confident in the knowledge that he would see her again soon. He would insist upon it. Though he would be unable to publically claim her as his own outside the covert, he would never allow his child to be a stranger to him. Laurence found that he cared for her as much as he did for Temeraire, if not more so. It was a relief that aviators viewed things in so relaxed a fashion.

Nonetheless, he did not relish the thought of explaining Temeraire’s declaration that he would take only Mary as a second captain to anybody, much less to Jane. Finally allowing himself the small, private indulgence of a weary sigh, Laurence began to make his way back to her office. He did not have any excuse to keep the information to himself. Not that he would have long succeeded. It may have been his imagination, but Laurence fancied that he could hear a delighted Temeraire telling Maximus of the news. It would be a marvel if Jane did not already know when he reached her office.

 


End file.
